


You're My Sunflower, even though this fic doesn't even have any

by LunaticClassic



Category: Ensemble Stars! (Video Game)
Genre: ESOround2, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-28
Updated: 2019-07-28
Packaged: 2020-07-23 15:35:35
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,465
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20010664
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LunaticClassic/pseuds/LunaticClassic
Summary: Prompt 88 for ESOround2 - "midori confessing to chiaki with flower language!"





	You're My Sunflower, even though this fic doesn't even have any

He’s loud and his voice strikes clear- through both the air and his chest. How is it so easy for some people to put their feelings to word? Showing gratitude like Chiaki did- this was something Midori hadn’t figured out yet. 

He isn’t blind. He knows that while Chiaki shouts compliments and encouragement, he doesn’t voice his fears, his concerns. Rather, it’s love and warmth that he feels in every word that bubbles past his captain’s lips. Always with a mouth upturned in a smile; and it would have been sweet had the volume at which Chiaki shouted affirmation not given him headaches. 

Through the soft patter of rain hitting the cobbled streets outside their shop, Midori sighed, watching as an early spring shower got the tips of his sneakers wet. Crouching in front of one of the planters that his mother kept by the storefront, he nudged the flowers out into the rain. 

“You guys need to eat too, huh? I hope you get nice and big-” Laughing darkly to himself, he paused. “Ah, I feel bad telling you to grow tall… I want to die anytime someone says that to me...” 

The flowers, deep purple irises, bowed their heads in apparent acknowledgement. Though, he couldn’t tell if it was in agreement to the curse of growing tall or on his monologue on the many ways that Chiaki Morisawa made a nuisance of himself. 

Grumbling, he flicked one of the flowers, watching as it bounced before righting itself again. Mumbling to no one, he scowled, tired that his joints ached from growing pains and the rain, tired of always having a certain someone on his mind. 

“He’s always running his mouth. So why can’t he be honest? I can tell he’s not saying what’s really on his mind… We can _all_ tell.” 

_But why did he care?_

Rain always made the fat blossoms dip their heads as water collected on soft petals, but Midori still felt as if the star shaped blossoms were listening to him. It was nice though, that they wouldn’t actually answer him. It gave him time to sort through his feelings, and wonder why he spent so much of his time thinking about someone that bothered him so much. 

Pulling the planter back under the rafters, he idly picked at the nursery tag still attached to the side of the pot, squinting at the soggy piece of paper. Turning the little scrap over in his hand, he got back to his feet, reading the text before the paper turned to mush in his hand. 

_Iris- the Greek goddess of the rainbow. Messenger of the gods. Bearer of clear communi-_

Rolling his eyes, he crushed the disintegrating tag in his hand before tossing it in the trash. Talk about on the nose, tacky, way too obvious- 

Exhaling loudly, he stomped back into the shop, quietly telling himself that his mental health couldn’t afford to be thinking about Chiaki 24/7. 

Dealing with him on weekdays was enough. 

_\--- First Year, Spring ---_

They’re tall. Tall enough that even if he holds the cut stems in hand down by his waist, the laughing buds shade his face and keep him hidden. 

He’s always been hiding. Even now, on the eve of graduation, he’s still hiding. He’d promised to start working harder; but look at him. 

“ _Actually, don’t- Please don’t…_ ” 

Shutting his eyes, he took a deep breath, inhaling the light fragrance of the irises- sweet enough that he felt as if his cheeks were sore from smiling. The type of feeling he imagined Chiaki had daily. 

Midori’s ears picked up when he heard a laugh that sent a chill down his spine, his head whipping around to find the source before panicking and ducking behind a tree. 

Sinking away from the sound of chatter as the newly graduated third years were being showered with well wishes and congratulations, he felt his own heart sinking. Why’d he even come here. There were too many people- and only one person he’d been looking for. It was pointless. He _still_ wasn’t sure what he even wanted to say. 

_Congrats? Thanks for putting up with me? See you never?_

Letting his legs walk him somewhere less congested, he took one last peek at the crowd, failing to spot Chiaki and deciding to let it be. 

Avoiding the front gate, he exited the school through the side, finding a trash can on his way out. Fingers tightening, he heard a slight whine as the irises bent in his hand. 

_Useless_. 

Tossing the flowers in the bin, he sighed in frustration when the long stems refused to fall easily into the void. Using the flat of his palm, he pushed against the bruised flowers. He crushed down the stems until they snapped, shoving the once tall flowers down the garbage with the rest of his feelings. 

_\--- Third Year, Spring ---_

Being an idol. Is hard. 

Midori never planned for endless weeks of planning or late nights practicing. He never saw himself as the center of anything, attention or otherwise. It was tiring; life could have been so much easier if he’d just dropped out. 

Yet there was satisfaction in feeling his muscles ache after perfecting everything down to the last step of a dance routine. Or seeing the smiles on Tetora’s or Shinobu’s faces when he managed to nail that corny, embarrassing catchphrase that they started every live off with. The glowing feeling in his chest when scores of fans looked up to him on stage, cheering on Ryuseitai. 

He was working hard- and he only hoped that the person he’d snubbed those years ago was still watching him. 

And to his hidden delight but visible surprise, a chance at righting the confession he’d planned two years ago appeared. At his own graduation. And god- he was owning up to a half baked plan being a confession attempt. 

“Uh, hello? Takamine? You look troubled ~☆ Come, tell me your woes! I promise I’ll listen,” Chiaki said while beaming, dragging Midori out of the internal monologue that he hadn’t even realized he’d launched himself into. Idols and monologues, those just went hand in hand at this godforsaken school. 

“You did that thing where your eyes glaze over when I start talking.” Waving his hand in front of Midori’s face, Chiaki tilted his head as if he was waiting for an answer. All the while, he’d been invading Midori’s personal space, the only gap between them marked by the bouquet that was held between their chests. 

Dragging his eyes down Chiaki’s face, Midori’s line of vision finally landed on a mishmash of flowers in a bundle, soft blue hydrangeas and tiny florets of buttercups. A slew of red roses surrounded the affair while leafy fillers evened out the cacophony. He could see where Chiaki was going with the not very subtle theming, and he hesitated before putting his hand against Chiaki’s and guiding it higher so he could confirm his suspicion. 

Wrapping paper, in black- holding this floral mess together. 

Plucking a buttercup from the arrangement, he tucked it into Chiaki’s shirt pocket. “You’re childish and annoying. But you’re kind. And thoughtful sometimes.” 

“You were always in my face about working hard, and it was obnoxious. But you never gave up.” Sighing, he pulled out a long stemmed hydrangea, shoving it at Chiaki’s face, where a look of confusion was blooming. “So thanks…” 

Chiaki fumbled to keep a hand on the bouquet while trying to catch the flowers that were being shoved at him. “Oh, you’re really tearing that bouquet apart. Are you sure you want to do tha-” 

“Shut up.” 

“Roger.” 

Wriggling a rose free, Midori gave Chiaki a pointed look before offering it. “I was supposed to tell you this two years ago, but congrats on graduating. And for putting up with me. And for coming back today.” 

Exhaling through his nose, he straightened out of his usual inward posture, tilting his chin up slightly so that Chiaki could hear him loud and clear when he said, “I like you. I might even _really_ like you- I… miss you. I think about you. I love you.” 

The heavy pause weighed down his chest with the force of the world, and at the slight hesitation, Midori could feel his throat closing up. Closing his eyes, he kept his breathing even, ready to leave, when he felt a light squeeze on his fingertips. 

Chiaki’s warm hands took the rose, and for a moment, Midori felt like his feelings were being held carefully in Chiaki’s hands. 

Blinking, he searched Chiaki’s face for an answer, but was given one when the other leaned up by the tips of his toes to press a light kiss to the corner of his mouth. 

“Message received, loud and clear.” 


End file.
